I Feel My Heart Start To Trembling
by orangeyouglad8
Summary: Brittana. Jagged Little Tapestry. "Everyone oohs and aahs over the ring. The ring that Yeast-I-Stat paid for. And you'll gladly answer to Yeasty for the rest of your life, you'll never regret anything that could bring your girl that much joy." One-Shot.


She's sleeping quietly, in your arms in her old bed. You're back in Lima for what feels like the millionth time since you actually left because…. well you don't really know why.

But you're here helping with the glee club even though you want to be back in New York with your girlfriend instead of in this shitty town that makes you remember everything you used to hate about yourself.

Except she's here with you.

She's been with you since the last time you came back.

Since dances, and breadsticks, and kisses, and rooms full of lilies.

Since plane tickets and vacation dreams.

Since "I wanna be with you, Santana."

She's here, and she's all yours. And this past year has been spectacular and magical and everything you hoped and dreamed it could be back when you were afraid to even hope and dream of her.

Her, her, her.

It's always been her.

And none of the girls in New York could ever replace her. Could ever make you feel the things you feel when she so much as looks at you.

Your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her come home.

You swoon when you can smell her perfume and shampoo in the rooms you inhabit together.

You melt when she smiles that smile at you. The shy one. The small perfect one that you know is just for you. Her Santana smile.

She's here in your arms and you're both back in her house and her parents are back to joking around with you.

It was weird when they weren't.

It was weird when the teasing stopped. And the Dad jokes. And the sarcasm.

It was weird and heartbreaking in it's own right.

Because they were always your family, too. You spent years here, growing up under their roof, eating family dinners with them, going on family jaunts with them, babysitting Britt's little sister.

They watched you grow up.

They watched you love their daughter.

Love her so much you had to let her go.

But you know you've redeemed yourself.

You know you're back in their good graces. When Pierce opened the door and introduced himself to you and stuck out his hand for a handshake, you knew it was ok.

And it's been ok since you both left for your lesbian island.

And your heart sings to think about it.

**Xx**

You suppose being back has it's perks. Homecooked meals, pampering, a girls day shopping excursion with both of your mothers

Whitney was delighted to see you after your newest Yeast- I- Stat commercial. She keeps repeating the lines back to you, asking you if you want a bagel every morning, pulling out a brand new ribbon and asking you to ribbon dance around the kitchen table

She's even started calling you 'Yeasty' and 'Yeast Girl' and much to your dismay you laugh about it.

Because it's actually pretty funny.

And it feels good to be back in the family again.

And you know what that commercial did for you, what that money will be used for.

Because your yeasty money immediately went into a separate bank account. At first you told yourself it was for school. And rent. And then for a demo.

But you really, in the back of your head, kind of always knew what it was for.

Who it was for.

Because there's always been this girl.

This girl you haven't stopped thinking about since the first day she smiled at you.

This girl you haven't gotten out of your head since she first kissed you.

This girl you haven't shaken from your brain since she first told you she loved you.

It's always been her, her, her.

When you got that second commercial, it sealed the deal. That check went into that second bank account so fast you don't think the ink dried.

So you'll let Whitney call you yeast girl every day for the rest of your life.

Because you know, you know, you know.

**Xx**

You bought the ring back in New York.

You brought it home with you. Not to propose but because you're not leaving that thing in your shitty apartment.

And, honestly, having it with you calms you down in a weird way.

You're still nervous, jittery, completely itching in your skin when you think about it.

But, calm just the same.

It's sitting in the bottom of your carryon. Hidden in a ball of socks you hope Britt doesn't use.

You made sure she had extra in her own bag. Just in case. You can't be too careful.

It's sitting there and you want to check on it every day, every hour, but you don't. You know it hasn't moved. You can't keep scrounging around in your bag without Britt catching on.

So you sit and dream about how you're going to propose to your perfect girl.

You always knew you were gonna marry that girl someday. You knew it deep in your bones. In your soul. Even if you didn't always listen, or believe it. You knew.

**Xx**

Being back in the choir room after all this time feels like torture.

It makes you nostalgic for a time you don't know if you want to remember.

Because the smiles, oh the smiles you counted.

But the fear, and the self-loathing, and _Mine_.

And all the stupid things you said and did when you were young and scared.

You're still young and scared, just in a new and different way.

And you're you.

True to yourself and true to the one you love.

You're not hiding anymore.

You and Britt sit in your same old seats. The seat you sat in so many times to count so many smiles. And steal so many glances. And so many touches.

The place where you felt most free, most alive. The place where you didn't hide as much from yourself, or your love for her.

You sit and trade comments back and forth to each other, snide and snarky like always. You assess the new kids they wrangled together, wondering if they'll be able to pull off the unthinkable like you guys did.

You sit and watch Berry and Hummel argue and bicker over every little thing.

And you see everyone sigh and roll their eyes.

And you know.

You know you're the most adult people in this room.

You and her.

And you feel it, in your bones.

It makes you feel good, really good.

And you actually volunteer to go first for an assignment.

Because you'll have the best song anyway, you and Britt have always rocked it.

**Xx**

When she tells you that she'll love you to infinity, you know.

You know you're going to propose, how you're going to propose. You just can't _not_ anymore.

Because she always believed in you. Before you even believed in yourself.

And all that belief and love and trust grew and grew in that damn choir room.

That room that haunted your dreams for a while, your nightmares.

That room that caused you so much grief and guilt.

That room that made you hate everything, because you couldn't have what you truly wanted.

Until it did.

Until it brought you back together.

Until it was filled with lilies and a smiling soulmate.

You felt your stomach swoop when she said she wanted to do '_You Oughta Know_' because she remembers, she always remembers.

But you can't do that song. Not for this.

Not if you want to show these newbies how it's done.

And, honestly, that song is tied up in so much angst, so much fear, you don't know if you can sing it with her.

Because she is the opposite of angst. She is the calm. She is the brave.

She makes you better.

She always has.

And you're going to tell her.

You're going to tell her in the best way you know how.

**Xx**

And you're too excited to sleep.

She drifts off and you watch her, her soothing breaths, her little sighs.

She's wearing a content smile on her face, naked and glowing. You melted into her after she said those words to you. You kept melting into each other all night.

She is perfect.

Why did you ever think you could fight it?

You don't know what to do with your nervous energy so you text Quinn.

You have to tell someone.

You have to let this too big feeling go a little bit.

Because your chest feels like it's going to explode, and you feel like you're going to throw up, and float away, and drop dead all at once.

Because you know, you know, you know.

It's always been her, her, her.

It always will be.

For infinity.

And you talk to Quinn for a little bit, but it does nothing to settle your nerves.

And you go downstairs for a glass of water, careful not to wake anyone.

But Whitney is there, reading.

And she smiles at you.

And she stops you to say something.

And she tells you that she's glad you're back, for good. And she's glad her Britty is happy again. And she wanted to kick your ass for what you did, but she's so glad you did it. Because Britt grew up. You both did.

And you know you're crying.

It's like she can tell. She can tell what you're going to do tomorrow. What you're planning in your head.

Mother's intuition or something and she's not even your mother.

Not really.

Not yet.

And you thank her and run back upstairs to Britt. Who feels you slide back into bed, and snuggles up to you.

Who sleepily asks you what time it is in that mumbly way she always does when she's half asleep.

And says "you're silly, honey." in that way that makes your heart thump, thump, thump so loud you can hear it everywhere.

When you turn over those words in your head, the ones you just heard downstairs, another song pops into your head.

Another damn Taylor Swift song.

That bitch.

She haunts you, too.

Because you really were stupid.

Really.

Why you picked that song of all the songs to pause what you had going. You'll never know. You'll never listen to it the same way again.

Even though she forgave you.

Even though you know she knows why you picked it.

Even though she said she's started listening to it again.

She understood what you were saying even if you couldn't. She is the best thing that's ever been yours, she always will be. She heard the words even through the tears.

You just had to let her go so she could come back to you.

And this love is alive. This love left a permanent mark that is all over you.

You'd never be able to get it off even if you tried.

**Xx**

She laughs at you in the morning. That clear, strong, wonderful laugh that you know means she's really pleased.

She laughs at you because you are being fidgety.

You can't help it.

Your hair isn't doing what you want, so you end up pulling it back.

You fight with your mascara to get the perfect amount of black just right.

You trip over your heels as you go to slide them on.

And she's just sitting and watching you, your frenzy, from the bed.

An amused smile on her face.

A look of love in her eye.

A fat cat on her lap.

She radiates happiness.

And your stomach swoops at the thought.

What if she says no? What if she thinks you're too young. You are too young but you know, you know, you know.

What if she says yes just because it's in front of everyone?

You're working yourself up so much you don't even hear her call your name until she's right behind you, gently touching your arm. Reminding you you'll be late.

She spins you around and kisses your lips, soft and sweet. She looks into your eyes and hers are so clear, so blue, and she calls you _honey_ again.

And you know you are being ridiculous.

**Xx**

Quinn catches your eye when you walk into the choir room with Britt. You can see the love there, and the teasing look she gives you.

Honestly, you'd give her the same look.

You are such a goober.

You make a break for the bathroom before the lesson starts and let Quinn distract Britt for a moment. You pull aside the little emo girl who plays in the band and ask her quietly and nicely if she'll hold the ring box for you. You saw her watching you and Britt the other day with that look in her eye, the scared look that you saw staring back at you every day in the mirror for so, so long.

You want her to see what can really happen. She agrees and shyly puts it in her pocket.

And then it's time.

And you're not ready.

But you've never been ready for anything else.

And you decide to be playful.

And you pull out a chair for her to sit in, but she doesn't want to stay.

And you drop down to your knee and give her that look, dropping hints.

But she just comes right down to the floor to join you.

And you bounce around so, so in love.

So in love with this girl, your girl.

And you almost can't wait for the song to be over.

Because when she looks at you from the piano.

When she looks at you that way, that way that makes the earth actually feel like it is going to stop moving underneath you, you know you know you know.

And you pull her to the back row.

The place where you let yourself feel the love you had for her.

And then you lead her back to the chair.

Because it's time.

She's smiling at you like you're the silliest.

Like you're the biggest goober on the planet.

And you are.

And she's so calm, so quiet.

And you start your speech. The one you were thinking about all night.

The one that you had in your head from the moment you picked out that ring. The perfect ring.

And you get to the part that always gets you.

You get to the truth. You two are a big deal. That no matter how many times you tried to put your thing down and walk away you couldn't. Because you don't want to live your life without your one true love.

And you see her eyes flash with something.

And you can see her brain turning.

And you keep going.

You see her face change when she sees the ring.

And hear the little gasp she lets out.

And you get down on one knee.

And you ask the question you've been wanting to ask her since you first laid eyes on her.

"Brittany S. Pierce, will you marry me?"

And her gasp, again.

And her shock.

And her delight and joy.

"Oh my god, I would love to! I would love to!"

And she grabs the ring and puts it on her own finger, and it's just so Brittany.

And you see it all and hear it all, but you don't believe it.

And you wonder if you heard right, you have to ask.

"Really?"

You feel her arms around you before anything else.

And you don't think you've ever been happier.

You feel like your heart might explode from how big it feels.

Or your legs might give out from how swoony you are.

But her arms are squeezing you so tight.

And she'll catch you every time.

She always has.

**Xx**

Everyone oohs and aahs over the ring.

The ring that Yeast-I-Stat paid for.

And you'll gladly answer to Yeasty for the rest of your life, you'll never regret anything that could bring your girl that much joy.

You watch her looking at it, smiling that shy smile and swooning over it.

Her kisses, so many kisses.

She is incandescent.

She is glowing.

She is yours.

Proudly so.


End file.
